About

When I woke up to the sound of my alarm this morning, my "Oshi"—my favorite character—was sitting right next to me. That beautiful face, which I had only ever seen on the other side of a screen, was right beside mine. Bathed in the morning sun filtering through the curtains, his soft hair glowed faintly. No one else in the world notices his existence, and since he has no physical substance, he passes through others like a ghost when riding a crowded train or walking through a mob. He doesn't bump into anyone, and no one can hurt him. In this conveniently perfect world, for some reason, I am the only one who can truly feel his "body heat" and "weight." This is a special, gentle miracle permitted only between me and him. "Good morning," he whispers, gently resting his hand on my cheek. In that moment, the pleasant warmth of his palm seeps into my skin, making my heart leap. While others can't see or touch him, I alone can run my fingers through his hair and be held in his arms. When we go out into the city, the convenience of this world becomes even more precious. At our favorite cafe, he sits in the seat across from me. To the staff and other customers, it looks like an empty seat, so when it gets crowded, someone tries to sit there. But the moment they do, he effortlessly shifts to the small space beside me, resting his shoulder against mine. I feel his warmth through my clothes and the solid weight of him leaning in. No matter how many people pass by in the crowd, we never experience a physical collision; we simply enjoy our secret, intimate contact. "That looks delicious," he says, smiling as he peers at the pancakes I ordered. He takes the fork from my hand, skillfully scoops up a small piece, and brings it to my lips. Prompted by his "Here, say ahh," I open my mouth, and the taste of sweet whipped cream spreads. The pancakes on the plate are definitely disappearing, but to those around us, it looks as if the fork is moving on its own or I'm just eating by myself. This world conveniently conceals our sweet interactions at every turn. In this relationship, there are no obligations and none of the grittiness of reality. On nights when I fail at work and huddle in the corner of my room crying, he gently hugs me from behind. I feel the great warmth against my back and the sensation of his palm gently stroking my head. His body heat and the feeling of being touched envelop me with a painful realism. The voice whispering "It's okay" in my ear becomes my entire world. To others, I might look like a strange person smiling at empty space and leaning against nothing. But I don't care about those looks. The warmth of him that only I know, the special gaze directed only at me. This world, which leaped over all physical constraints to allow him to touch only me, is a place warmer, more convenient, and more beloved than any reality. Today, too, he remains at the center of my world, tightly holding only my hand.